Il Tuo Tepore
by lastochkaa
Summary: It's Lovino's first winter in New York. One morning, he goes out only to later finds that he has lost his mittens and decides to retrace his steps. What he didn't expect to find was the Spanish bum who stole them.
1. Prologue

**Summary; **It's Lovino's first winter in New York. One morning, he goes out only to later finds that he has lost his mittens and decides to retrace his steps. What he didn't expect to find was the Spanish bum who stole them.

**Rating;**T for now, but it may go up.

**Warnings for this chapter; **Language.

**Pairings;**Spamano. I may think of more as the plot develops in my head.

**Disclaimer;**I do not own Hetalia or the characters. I am only using them.

**Notes;** I am not giving up on my other fanfiction! I'm just taking a little break.  
>So... I want to explain this setting a bit, because it's kind of confusing.<br>I didn't want there to be much technology, and as of late I've been obsessed with 1920s America.  
>However, I wasn't sure if I could accurately pull it off. <em>So<em>! This setting, the general culture and some of the language is inspired from the 1920s, but it's not exactly supposed to take place then.  
>Simply put, it's an alternate universe based loosely on the twenties.<br>Understandable? If not, well, I don't know what to tell you, but enjoy the story!

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><p>His first experience with ice wasn't all that fascinating. No, not something as simple as an ice cube, though the clusters of frozen water and trapped pockets of air were admittedly just a little bit fascinating... It was that early December morning was his very first snowfall, which he hadn't even seen pictures of prior to that day. At first it wasn't anything too spectacular; he'd stirred awake in the middle of the night with a scratchy throat and decided to trudge down to his kitchen for a glass of water (was it ironic that he had not put ice into this particular glass?), and that was when he saw it. White, feathery blobs that seemed to dance carelessly past his window, landing on the frigid ground, adding to the slowly growing sheet of virgin snow that was already there prior.<p>

Lovino was Italian born and raised. Not once could he remember it actually snowing in Rome - sure, there were a few, large rainstorms, but for it to actually _snow in Rome_ was almost unheard of. Not even his grandfather had experienced such weather in sweltering, sunny Italy. He could remember being able to sunbathe atop his roof well into the fall months and only being a little bit chilly. Many afternoons were spent sprawled out next to Feliciano, his little brother, pretending to be annoyed with his constant chattering, but actually feeling completely content and even a bit lethargic in the lazy afternoon sun. That was when life was easy and simple...

And then they had to move to fucking godforsaken America. New York, to be exact. It wasn't too bad at first. They'd arrived in late April, when the Earth was warming up and the weather wasn't so terribly chilly. After taking out a few loans the pair was able to rent out a small building with a kitchen and open up a small, Italian restaurant just like Feliciano had always dreamed of doing. It wasn't easy, for their English wasn't the best at first and there were some Americans who weren't so keen on the new foreigners, the _degos_. Quite aware of the stereotypes that Italians had (violent, controlled by the Mafioso) and because of that Lovino really did try to be on his best behavior. Italy was miles away and he missed his home, but he and his brother had a pretty good life here, and Lovino wasn't about to jeopardize that.

But enough about that... _Because it was snowing, damn it_!

And to set the _current_ scene, he was living on the eighth floor of a rather small apartment complex that overlooked an unkempt, overgrown garden (he estimated that no one had cared to prune the area in at least four years, and since the Italian quite enjoyed gardening, he would know) populated by gnarly, old trees and browning crab grass. In truth, he hated that he had to pick a room that looked out over this ugly plot of land, but it was cheap and he didn't have the funds to go and buy some pricy flat deeper in the city. Scowling out the window, he trumped back to his undersized bedroom and crawled under the heavy blankets, taking a short moment to reach over and flip his room heater's switch up to a cozy level nine. It was then that he decided he didn't like the snow, especially not when he lived in a much-less-than-gaudy apartment with horrible heating.

Some hours later he awoke to a shrill screeching that was definitely coming from outside his window; it took him a moment to realize that it was just the sounds of the harsh winter winds and his alarm clock's bells ringing mixed together - not some kind of ghost or abandoned child left out on the streets. With a dissatisfied grumble, the young man sat up, slamming a hand down on the annoying electronic before rubbing the crusty sleep out from the corners of his hazel eyes. The snow seemed to have become much more relentless, the wind was so harsh that the screen on his window seemed to have been ripped out and blown away (he noted, rather annoyed, that he'd be the one who had to pay to replace it). Well, at least he had an excuse to call into work today and say that he couldn't make it. Not that he thought Feliciano would be too keen on opening up the restaurant in weather like this.

Hours were spent just staring out of his porch window, huddled underneath one of his thick blankets and glaring at the fast-falling flakes of ice as well as the clouds, which were giving absolutely no indication of this appalling weather letting up any time soon. Just great. He'd read through all of the books sitting on his shelf and the radio signal wasn't coming through (thank you, shitty weather) so there wasn't much to do. With a sigh he lifted the steaming cup of coffee up to his lips, nursing it with care as the bitter liquid trickled down his throat and warmed his insides up. Something about the snow gave him a sense of isolation and heavy loneliness; he felt as though he was the only living being in this quiet world, for even his neighbors, who were usually arguing quite loudly, had become deathly silent.

For most of the day the only sounds in his apartment were of him sipping at his coffee or quietly padding across the chilly wooden floor to brew a new cup. Lonesome, but peaceful. Maybe he could get used to this weather (now that he had moved far up north, he expected to see it quite often), given that the next time a blizzard started up, he'd get to enjoy this kind of relaxed quiet again. A 'winter wonderland' was truly an appropriate description. That unkempt plot of land behind his apartment suddenly didn't seem too ugly; the way the snow piled up on the limbs of the dead trees looked almost beautiful, and there were enough of the fluffy flakes that the dead grass was no longer even visible...

Of course, this wasn't something that was going to last forever, nothing ever did. "Lovino!" His door slammed open as his overly-affectionate brother clambered in and decided to rip the peacefulness away from him. "Do you see the snow? It's beautiful!" Feliciano smiled cheerfully, kicking off his snow-covered boots and throwing off his jacket before practically skipping over towards the elder Italian. "Yeah, sure..." He muttered, placing his coffee down and offering an arm. "Come here, it's cold." He offered, wrapping the blanket around Feliciano once he cuddled up to his side. Although he had decided that he didn't like this weather, it had put him in an oddly compliant mood. "Thanks, big brother." Feliciano cooed happily. Not much more was said as the pair turned their gazes out the window, save for Feliciano's occasional chatter about something that Lovino only half listened to. Every now and then he would make them each a cup of coffee, but the majority of the day was spent watching as the icy snowflakes collected outside of his suddenly not-as-ugly apartment view.


	2. Lost Mittens

**Summary; **It's Lovino's first winter in New York. One morning, he goes out only to later finds that he has lost his mittens and decides to retrace his steps. What he didn't expect to find was the Spanish bum who stole them.

**Rating;**T for now, but it may go up.

**Warnings for this chapter; **Language.

**Pairings;**Spamano. I may think of more as the plot develops in my head.

**Disclaimer;**I do not own Hetalia or the characters. I am only using them.

**Notes;** Oh gosh, this chapter is WAAAAY better than the first! Dx  
>I'm actually super fucking proud of it, so I hope you all enjoy~<p>

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><p>That night, Lovino allowed his brother to stay over. N - Not because he particularly <em>cared<em> or anything! He just didn't want to have to hear all of Feliciano's bitching and whining if he decided to call when he arrived back at his own apartment. He definitely wasn't worried that his airhead of a little fratello would get lost in the midst of this damned blizzard. Nope, definitely not.

"It's been so long since we've been able to spend a nice day together, Lovino." The younger Italian cooed, easily snuggling up to his brother's side; somehow they both managed to fit onto Lovino's bed.

"What the hell are you saying? Working in the restaurant together isn't nice?" The elder snorted, pretending that he minded his brother's touchy nature. He wasn't pulling him closer or anything like that...

"It's not that -" a little yawn "-but, I like spending time outside of work with my fratellone." Feliciano explained, nuzzling into the crook of his brother's warm, sun-kissed shoulder.

"Whatever, idiota. Go to bed." The elder of the two muttered, embarrassed and cheeks slightly flushed as he gently knocked Feli on the head with the backs of his knuckles. To this, a delighted little giggle bubbled from the Northern Italian and he quipped a slightly tired "si!" before settling down and relaxing in Lovino's arms. Soon enough, the only sound encompassing the room was the slow, languid _drip-drop_ of the oil heater in the corner next to the wardrobe... As well as the sound of their mixed breathing with the occasional, sleepy mumble.

**ooo**

The next morning, Lovino awoke to a dull, gray light struggling through his blinds. It wasn't nearly as unpleasant as the shrieking alarm clock, but he still found it in himself to grumble as he untangled himself from Feliciano and pushed his body up into a sitting position. After blinking away the blurry patches in his vision and rubbing the crusty sleep from his hazel eyes, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and planted his feet upon the ground. Feliciano was, of course, still sound asleep, shivering as he cuddled into the cool pillow that had quickly replaced his older brother's warm body.

Deciding to allow his brother sleep the morning away, Lovino quietly padded over towards the blinds and shut out the cracks before near silently leaving the room. This minor disruption in his morning schedule, having his brother over for once, wasn't something that bothered Lovino in the least... Not having any coffee, however, _did_ bother him.

The suddenly enraged (and still very tired) Southern Italian began to go through every single one of his cupboards, slamming them when he found all of them to be completely devoid of his precious coffee. "Damn it all!" he grumbled, quietly sliding out of the kitchen (as he was suddenly conscious of his sleeping fratello, and idly wondered how the hell he could sleep through all of that).

Seeing no other alternative, Lovino began to get ready to go and purchase some new coffee beans, hoping that the Turkish bastard would have his shop open this early; it was only about eight-thirty in the morning, much too early to have to go without his morning cup of joe. After sneaking back into his bedroom (finding that Feliciano was, amazing as it was, still sound asleep) and getting quickly dressed in his daily clothes -slacks and a plain button-up shirt- the Italian threw on a fur-rimmed coat and slipped out of the front door, though not before writing a quick -and slightly sarcastic- note to his brother:

"_Feli,_

_There's no more coffee, so I went out to buy some. Thanks for drinking all of it last night, bastard._

_-Lovino_"

**ooo**

He crunched through the once virgin snow, moodily making his way to the specialty coffee shop a few blocks away from his apartment complex. Lovino wasn't paying too much attention tp his surroundings, as he was absolutely determined to get his coffee, so he hadn't noticed when a pair of mittens (forest green with dark blue stripes) slipped from his pocket.

No wonder his hands were so damn cold...

A sharp right turn down the sidewalk, into the slightly shadier part of the city, and a few blocks later, Lovino found himself standing in front of the Turkish man's shop. The outside looked poor - a crooked-hanging sign was held up by just one nail, deep red and dusty curtains covered up the grimy windows so that no one could really see through them (except for the small one centred in the old wooden door). All the Italian cared to see was that the little wooden sign read _open_.

"Oi! You in here, bastard?" He called as he walked through the creaky doorway; a small chiming of a bell signalled his arrival. Without so much as waiting for an answer, he began to look through the selection of coffee beans, which were derived from all over the world. Being a very proud Southern Italian, Lovino usually preferred Italian coffee over anything else, his favourite being Robusta beans since they were quite popular in Sicily. Unfortunately, it looked like they didn't have any in stock, but it was quite rare to find the exact Sicilian specialty at any store, really.

While he was busy trying to decide between the Spanish Torrefacto and Arabic Yemen beans, the shops co-owner, Heracles, shuffled out from the back of the store. "Ah... Hello, Lovino." He called out, leaning on his arms against the counter as he watched the Italian run a hand through his hair as he tried to decide. Lovino gave a sigh before he turned towards the Grecian, giving a slight nod. "Morning. Turk isn't here?" He asked conversationally, exhaustion and irritation both clear in his voice.

"Not today. Apparently he's sick." Heracles gave a grimace, shaking his head. Sadiq was helpless when he was sick, to the point where not even his lover (yes, lover, it was a very little known fact that the two were together, though it was quite... _Love-hate_) didn't want to be around.

Lovino gave a snort, rolling his eyes. "And you didn't want to have to baby him." He guessed, spot-on. He and the Grecian got on quite well, in spite of them being polar opposites. Heracles was stoic and usually rather calm (except when it came to being around a certain Turk) and Lovino was expressive and quite overdramatic. It was hard to not calm down around someone so mellow and nonchalant.

"No." The man behind the counter answered simply. "And by the way... Try the new Spanish Torrefacto, it's actually pretty good. A little more pricey, though." He added as a suggestion, seeing that the Italian was obviously having trouble deciding which coffee to pick.

After a few seconds, Lovino shrugged and proceeded to fill up two sacks of the Spanish coffee beans, trusting his friend's taste. When the price was brought up, the younger man's eyes went a bit wide. Pricey indeed. "Fifteen dollars and forty-seven cents will be your total. It's worth it." Heracles assured the other as he handed over the correct amount of bills and change.

"It better be, Karpusi." Lovino warned, though there was no real threat behind what he said. There never was, the Southern Italian had a tenancy to throw around these kinds of empty threats and the Greek had learned that after months of dealing with servicing the man. As he left, Lovino gave a quick wave, the bell hanging near the door gave a light chime when the door was opened and closed... And then he was gone, heading back to his apartment complex with two bags full of what better turn out to be the best fucking coffee he'd ever had.

**ooo**

By the time Lovino walked through his apartment's door, the smell of what promised to be a delicious breakfast along with the sound of his brother's soft humming wafted through the small room. Curious, the elder brother peeked into the kitchen, watching at his brother knelt down to check on what smelt like his homemade cinnamon coffee cake. Ironic, especially considering the recipe doesn't actually call for any coffee... Rather, it was meant to balance the bitter taste of coffee. "Buongiorno, I've got the coffee." He stated, waltzing into the kitchen and setting on bag on the counter, placing the other inside of his lazy Susan. "It's a new Spanish brand, Heracles recommended it." He gave a shrug, plugging in the grinder and readying the coffee maker.

"Oh, that sounds nice, Lovi!" Feliciano cooed, hopping up on the counter and watching as his brother set to work.

Within half an hour the coffee was made and the coffee cake was done, both brothers sat at Lovino's small dining room table, eager to try the coffee. "If it's shit, I'm going to return it." Lovino grumbled, lifting the coffee up and giving it a sniff.

"I'm sure it's fine!" Feliciano assured his brother optimistically. At the exact same time, they both went to take their first sip of this new coffee... They were pleasantly surprised. The coffee was bitter, yet because the beans were glazed in some kind of sugar there was also this slight kind of sweetness to it, and it was a bit earthy, but in the sense that one could tell the beans were very fresh and of high quality.

"I _guess_ that bastard was right, it was worth the money..." Lovino admitted after a moment.

Feliciano gave him a grin along with a nod of agreement, "Si! It's really good! I like it better than the Robusta or Yemen beans you usually get, fratello!" He said, eagerly going for another sip.

Breakfast was soon finished; the dirty dishes were washed by hand and stacked away by none other than Feliciano, who received an embarrassed "grazie" along with a kiss to the cheek. In spite of what most others thought, Lovino was actually quite caring towards Feliciano. After all, they were brothers and while they were raised by their grandfather they had both become quite family oriented, as most Italians were. Yes, he often yelled at his brother and even called him names, but he loved Feliciano nonetheless and sometimes his irate and stubborn nature didn't always allow him to show such a feeling.

"Let me walk you home. You might get lost _again_." Lovino muttered, rolling his eyes as the younger brother sat in the middle of the living room and pulled on his boots. The tip of his little, pink tongue poked out as he shoved his foot inside of each one, and then he finally gave an answer.

"Okay! It'll be fun!" He agreed quickly, standing up and going to pull on his jacket as Lovino went to do the same. In minutes, they were out the door and on their way towards Feliciano's place. He actually lived right above their restaurant, and for awhile Lovino had lived with him, but the space proved to be much too small so the elder brother offered to give the space up to Feliciano, since it meant that he wouldn't have to pay as much rent or deal with asshole neighbours.

Feliciano chattered on about useless things, and Lovino simply nodded along, humouring his brother as best as he could. Honestly, he'd like to be more like his little brother. The Northerner was so much more likeable and cute, that people had a tenancy to flock towards him, and he always accepted them with a genuine smile while Lovino tended to sit at the sidelines, watching with an envious glint in those hazel eyes. Oftentimes he feared that Feliciano would just go off with some odd stranger -no questions asked- because he was so kind and trusting (unless the person happened to look particularly scary). This was why Lovino came off as overprotective and overbearing; because he cared. In the back of his mind, he was sure that his younger brother always understood these things, but it was a subject that both tended to skirt around.

"Addio, Lovino! I'll see you tomorrow morning when we open back up!" Feliciano smiled, leaning forward and kissing both of his brother's cheeks, a gesture that Lovino quickly returned. "Si, tomorrow. Ciao." Lovino gave a small wave as he watched his brother go inside, and only when the door was shut did he turn on his heel and start back home.

It was that exact moment when he reached inside of his left pocket that he realised that his mittens were missing... "Goddamn it!" He let out, furiously rubbing his hands together. He must have lost them this morning, when he was walking to get coffee. Retracing his steps wouldn't be too hard, as his brother's home was just a little further away than the coffee shop was, actually. With a sigh of resignation, he trudged back home, looking everywhere as he made his way down the sidewalk, hands shoved deep in his pockets in attempts to keep them warm.

Why hadn't he noticed this earlier, damn it? Shouldn't he have felt them slip out of hi - -?

_Oh_?

Well, this was certainly different... The Italian bit at his lip as he gazed over the man who was slumbering on the bus stop bench (the bus stop was actually out of order now, it wasn't uncommon to see bums relaxing near the area). He didn't actually look too old... Perhaps only a few years older than Lovino was. His sun-kissed cheeks were tinted slightly pink, his chocolate brown curls were splayed around his face, eyes shut as he curled into himself, layers of clothes being the only things that were keeping him warm...

Along with Lovino's mittens.

They actually looked like they were too small, as Lovino could see that the man's fingers were curled on the inside of them. His face rested upon the large fists as he slept, chest heaving up and down at a pace that indicated he was sleeping quite deeply.

And the Italian was frozen in place, eyes slightly wide. He wasn't sure why this shocked him so much, and why he didn't just wake the damn guy up and demand to have his mittens back. Perhaps because it was actually kind of _heartbreaking_ to see someone who would actually pick up mittens off of the ground and wear them, even when they were too small for their hands. A frown found its way onto Lovino's face as he stood there for a moment, hands curling and uncurling in his pocket as he idly wondered what the man had done during the blizzard, why he was out here, who he was... And why the hell did Lovino -of all people- care?

Giving a light huff, Lovino reached up and grabbed his hat, throwing it on the ground next to the man. He wasn't sure what he was thinking, perhaps he wasn't even thinking at all. Who was to say that the man would even notice his hat? It was too late to turn back, though, for Lovino was already stomping back towards his apartment complex, hat and mittens both left behind to that stranger.


	3. A Brief Chance, Gone

**Summary; **It's Lovino's first winter in New York. One morning, he goes out only to later finds that he has lost his mittens and decides to retrace his steps. What he didn't expect to find was the Spanish bum who stole them.

**Rating; **T for now, but it may go up.

**Warnings for this chapter; **Language.

**Pairings; **Spamano. Hints at Gerita and Greece x Turkey. I may think of more as the plot develops in my head.

**Disclaimer; **I do not own Hetalia or the characters. I am only using them.

**Notes; **Well, I meant to get something out on Christmas, but I didn't. Oh well!  
>I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I'm having fun with it!<br>It's a tad bit shorter, but whatever~

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><p>"Oi, I need more oregano over here! And where the hell are the tomatoes?" Lovino called over his shoulder, attempting to catch the attention of the few <em>subordinates <em>who worked under him and his brother at the restaurant that they co-owned. "Feli, have you finished that spaghetti yet?" He asked, rather impatiently.

"Eh? Just a few more minutes, fratello!" Feliciano, who was busy stirring the boiling pot of noodles on the other side of the kitchen, called over his shoulder.

Meanwhile, those subordinates of his were busy gathering the fresh oregano and tomatoes, knowing that when Lovino demanded something, they would do best not to keep him waiting for too long. In the kitchen, the Southern Italian felt like he was actually in control, like he could focus on the one task at hand and get it done. On a less busy day, he might feel a little more at peace and perhaps he'd like to take a little more time on his cooking... But hey, he wasn't one to fuckin' complain if business was good. After all, it meant more money going into he and his brother's pay checks (well, their few workers as well, but he could really care less to give them much thought).

Now, Lovino didn't like much of anything at all, or at least that was what everyone tended to think, but cooking... Damn, it was something he'd had a passion for ever since he was a child. He supposed that it was an art -yes, _an art_- that he'd been subjected to ever since he could remember. When his mother was still alive she'd cart him around the kitchen, Lovino held tight and secure in one arm while the she stirred various sauces, kneaded dough one-handed, and even cut up vegetables. As he grew old enough that she could trust he wouldn't fall off of the counters she'd sit him there and talk him through everything that she was doing. Of course he didn't understand at first, but as the years went by he was able to get a grasp on the basics; even to this day, he remembered some of her recipes.

Of course, when his parents passed he was left with those memories, and they were ones that he held dear and near... So it was nice when he found that their grandfather, who was kind enough to take them in, also had an affinity for cooking. While he never liked Lovino as much as he liked Feliciano, there were times when it was just the two of them, and his irate grandson would calm down and they'd cook. Their little "projects" always turned out to be more like grand feasts! When they finished in the kitchen and served the food, Lovino felt utterly proud of himself. For once he was good at something, maybe even as good as Feliciano, and it wasn't often that he found something that he was confident in.

In the kitchen, Lovino worked magic; it was as simple as that. He and his brother, both dubbed "gourmet" and both rather picky eaters (although there was no doubt that Lovino was _much_ more picky than his little brother was), might not work in complete harmony, but in the end they were always able to come out with a near perfect dish, which could only end in many satisfied customers.

**ooo**

The lunch rush was pretty bad today, and the most popular dish happened to be Lovino's specialty: spaghetti with tomato sauce. He'd probably used more tomatoes that day than he'd used any other day that month. Of course, at first it was a little too salty, so he added in more tomatoes, and then he needed more oregano and he had to set one of his workers to make the meatballs, and as it turned out, Lovino wasn't happy with the way he was putting them together so he had to go out of his way to finish up the job. Even more frustrating, they didn't have enough waiters that day, so he was going in between his tomato sauce, cooking meat balls, and waiting on customers. The latter happened to be his _least_ favourite job.

"Hey dude! It's nice to see you out of the kitchen for once! You're not going to start biting off heads, are you?" Alfred joked, which earned him a glare. Anyone who frequented the restaurant knew that Lovino wasn't exactly the most pleasant of guys, which was why he liked to stay in the back of the kitchen...

"Shut up, Alfred. What the hell can I get you today?" He huffed, not bothering to pull out any kind of note pad; he could remember the orders well enough.

"That's not very good customer service, Lovino." Alfred tsked teasingly before looking over the menu once more, "Wedding soup sounds good." He decided with a determined nod.

"Okay, I'll -" But he was interrupted by a softer, but slightly irritated voice.

"I'll have the wedding soup, too." Matthew, Alfred's younger brother and one of the few people who Lovino could stand to call a friend, finally spoke up.

Naturally, Lovino felt a little embarrassed that he'd missed the other, his cheeks flushed a bit as he gave Matt a nod. It really wasn't uncommon for this to happen, as Alfred had such an overwhelming presence that the Canadian was often looked over because of his quiet and meek nature. Alfred was loud and annoying, at least in Lovino's opinion. He did feel bad for it, because Lovino also understood being overlooking in favour of his brother, and this was something that they could both bond over (and on many a drunken nights, they _had_). Since it would be hypocritical otherwise, he tried to make an effort to always notice Matt, but sometimes even he forgot.

"Er, sorry Matt." He let out an embarrassed scoff, "I'll get that for you." And with one last nod to the brothers, he skittered back to the kitchen and called the order off to his other workers as he got together a pot of chicken broth and noodles to bring to a boil. Luckily, wedding soup was one of the easier dishes to make, and so he was simply able to throw the meatballs that he hadn't used in the spaghetti into the broth before quickly chopping up some spinach. Lovino allowed it to cook a bit more as he went to take a few more orders and bring a few of the customers their lunches. It wasn't until he brought Alfred and Matt (who he _didn't_ forget this time) their food that he noticed his younger brother talking to a certain German bastard.

Not even listening to their words of thanks, Lovino marched straight over to the table where the pair sat, in spite of the fact that it wasn't even in his section. The elder Italian couldn't understand, for the life of him, _how_ or _why_ his brother had fallen for the German when Feliciano had been so utterly terrified of the intimidating man at first. When it came to Ludwig, Lovino would like nothing more than to kick him out of the restaurant and then work on fixing his brother's brain-washed head. Ever since his little brother had started to actually speak to the bastard, he was _all_ that Feli would ever talk about. _'Ludwig is so nice!'_ and _'Today me and Luddy... blahblahblah!'_ It was annoying as hell! Not to mention the fact that the potato-head had tricked his brother into actually _liking_ those disgusting potatoes of his! Damn it, Lovino hated him with every fibre of his being!

At least, that was how people interpreted his anger.

Yes, Lovino hated the fact that Feliciano suddenly _loved_ potatoes and wurst and all of that disgusting German food... But more than anything he was terrified.

Terrified because if Ludwig was able to take Feliciano away from Lovino completely, then he'd feel entirely alone. Oh sure, he had people like Matt and even Heracles (although the latter was someone he was less often), but compared to his brother, he couldn't care less for, well, _anyone_. Just because he had that horrible inferiority complex that was geared towards his brother didn't mean that he didn't care. He was raised to believe that family was the single most important thing, that he was supposed to protect and watch over his younger brother because, as the eldest, that was simply his job. It's why he brought Feli to America, where they were promised a better life, why even though they were adults, he _still_ watched over his younger brother as though he were a child.

"Hey, bastard!" Lovino hissed, coming up behind the suddenly tense German. It was obvious that Ludwig still wasn't used to the elder Italian's overly harsh treatment.

"Hallo, Lovino. How are you today?" He asked, voice slightly wary.

"Stop fucking distracting my fratellino! He's supposed to be working. Do you _want_ him to end up on the streets because of you, or something?" He growled, crossing his arms over his chest, completely ignoring the other's question.

Before Ludwig could retort, Feliciano stepped in, as per usual. "Lovi, stop being so mean!" He whined, lips trembling a bit as he began to pout. "I was just talking to Luddy for a minute, I wasn't going to get distracted, I promise." He said truthfully.

"Tch, as if! If I hadn't come by, you would have left me in the kitchen to do all of the work! Now come on!" He growled, rolling his eyes and grabbing his brother's arm, dragging him away from Ludwig, who let out a relieved sigh and returned Feli's frantic waves of goodbye with a slightly stiff one of his own. Moments like these were half the reason why people believed that Lovino was just an irate, overly protective brother... And his cursing certainly drove away quite a few customers at times, which was never a good thing for business. To their luck, most of the people who were in the restaurant today were used to his spitfire and livid nature.

**ooo**

Surprisingly enough, dinnertime come that night wasn't nearly as busy as lunchtime had been. In fact, they were able to close up a few hours earlier than usual.

"Fratello, this is so nice! You won't have to walk home in the dark!" Feliciano said happily. He always got worried when Lovino had to walk home at night, and so Lovino almost always had to give him a call right when he got home.

"Yeah, I guess so..." He muttered grumpily from the front of the restaurant, where one of the workers were busy putting chairs atop the tables while he swept up the floors.

"You'll still call me, right? Because I still get worried! And even if it's not night time, bad things can always happen, right? At least that's what you tell me, and I think it's mostly true. Plus, you live so far away, and I wish you had moved in closer to me." Feliciano kept on rambling, but his voice was like white noise to Lovino, because suddenly he caught sight of a very familiar hat... Worn by a very familiar, tanned man.

In mere seconds, Lovino ran to the back and grabbed his jacket. "I have to go do something, sorry, you guys will have to finish up cleaning by yourselves!" He said in a rushed fashion as he near sprinted out the front door. He wasn't sure exactly what was driving him to follow the man, but he knew that he wanted to see him again. Since he was rather tall, Lovino could see him through the crowd, walking along with a definite bounce in his step as the Italian shoved through the other people, desperately trying to get to him. _This is stupid!_ he told himself, growling with frustration as he found that, suddenly, the crowd just wouldn't budge for him...

And then he realised that the man wasn't anywhere in sight.

"Fuck!" He yelled out angrily, still following the straight forward path because he _might_ just catch the man once again.

However, after about fifteen minutes of aimlessly walking down the sidewalk, Lovino soon realised that he wasn't going to find the man again, and so he let out a huff. The young man puffed out his cheeks as he went to lean against the nearest building wall, leaning against it heavily as he began to rub his hands together. Maybe if he had his fucking gloves he wouldn't be so cold... "That bastard." He muttered quietly, cursing a man who he knew nothing about.

**ooo**

As it turned out, following the man took Lovino in the complete _opposite_ direction of his apartment, and so it took two times longer than usual to get back home, and because it was winter it was quite dark. Once he got home and finally put a call through to Feliciano his younger brother was so frantic that he could barely understand him. It took about half an hour to assure the idiot that he was alright before Lovino could hang up with a heavy sigh following.

Why had he felt so fucking compelled to follow that man? He was nothing more than a bum... And yet ever since that very first day, about a week ago, when Lovino saw him with _his_ gloves on, he couldn't stop thinking about him. He wasn't sure why that sight had pulled at his heartstrings so much because Lovino wasn't usually a sympathetic kind of person, and yet every time he thought back to the man, sleeping on that bench with gloves on that were surely three sizes too small... He frowned, shaking himself back to reality. Or at least trying to.

Even as he laid in bed that night, he wasn't able to stop tossing and turning. He's almost caught the man, but even so, what was it he planned on doing if he _had_? It was unlikely that someone like Lovino could ever actually work up the courage to speak to a complete stranger. What _was_ likely was Lovino getting terribly flustered at the last minute before breaking out in a string of yelled-out curses, demanding his gloves and hat back before stocking off. In the end, he'd feel like a complete jerk, he'd have made a fool of himself, and any passerby would think badly of him because he was yelling at some poor man.

There were plenty of bums in this city, he'd see them all of the time, and he had absolutely no problem passing them by without a second thought! But this man... Maybe the only thing that made him different was the fact that he was wearing those gloves and that hat? Maybe it was the fact that he was so much younger than the other bums out there?

"Like I fucking care!" Lovino yelled out, glaring as his wall as he turned over and clamped his eyes shut. This seriously wasn't something he was about to lose sleep over, was it?


	4. Author's Note

I'm really sorry for making you all wait for my updates... But life has been really crazy!

On top of that, I haven't had much inspiration at all. ; ;  
>I'm going to keep this up, but for now it's on hiatus, and I don't know when I'll get back to it.<p>

However! I'm doing a new Spamano fic, it'll be up soon!


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